Home Sweet Home: Snapshots and Memories
by katbybee
Summary: Summary: A group of hard-bitten combat vets swapping truths, lies, and memories on an island in the middle of nowhere—a place they can finally call home. The characters are telling these stories, so I have no idea what they have in mind...Post Series. Any story you'd like them to tell? Let me know... I'll put in a request. AU/R-R/UUD Thank you Xav... you Rock!
1. Isla del Dulce Hogar

**Winter, 2000**

 **Isla Dulce Hogar**

 **Somewhere  
in the Caribbean**

Templeton Peck stretched lazily and adjusted his sunglasses as he sat watching the waves. The tropical breeze washed over him like a balm, the scent heady and tangy with the promise of romance and adventure… or maybe just the promise of another cold beer. He grinned as he watched a girl wander by wearing not a lot of bikini. _Paradise, right?_

He sighed as he looked down at his hands. Age spots and wrinkles marred them now, a stark reminder that he was no longer the young, handsome, suave "Faceman" who could turn on the charm and get the team anything they needed with just his looks and his silver tongue. Hadn't needed to for a long time now. Sometimes, he missed those days…

Hannibal glanced over at Face, knowing full well what he was thinking. He chuckled, and Face shot him a look. "What?"

"You're feeling sorry for yourself again, right? About getting old? You're not all that old, Face. Hell, you're still in your fifties! What are you whining about?" Hannibal laughed outright then, his blue eyes still bright, though age had taken a toll on his face and body as well. "Me, I'm the old fart of the bunch."

Face smiled. "Yeah, you are that." They had recently celebrated Hannibal's 65th birthday, and the man had insisted there was nothing in the world he needed. He had his friends, his memories and finally, a place to call home… A place where no one could touch them. What more could a man want? Well, he thought sadly, there was one thing...

Hannibal glanced over to where B. A. sat at a picnic table with the parts to a small engine spread out in front of him. He looked as if all his concentration was centered on his task. Hannibal knew that was not the case. B. A. was keeping a close eye on Murdock who was sitting down by the water, playing with his collection of shells. Picking up one, handling it for a while, then carefully placing it on his other side before picking up the next one. Over and over. Hannibal knew Murdock would do that all day if given half a chance. It seemed to calm him on his bad days, though today had been pretty good. Hannibal scrutinized the tide and knew almost to the second what B. A.'s next move would be.

Within a minute or so, B. A. stood and crouched down next to Murdock. His voice was gruff, but his eyes were full of pain as he watched his little brother for a moment. "Come on, Fool, you need to move. Tide's comin' in."

Murdock smiled and lifted sightless eyes to his brother as he picked up his shells. "Yeah, I heard it."

B. A waited for Murdock to put his things together and stand. "You wanna go inside or stay out here?"

Murdock considered the question. He pulled off his ball cap and ran a hand through his silvering hair. "Inside I think. Wanna work on my model. It's almost done."

B. A. nodded. "Okay, come on. They headed into a building that was set back far enough from the beach that only the fiercest waves ever threatened it. It was built of native stone and served as the islander's storm shelter on the rare occasions that Mother Nature's temper got totally out of control. Most of the time it served as the island's only bar and sported the appropriate moniker "Headquarters" and was simply known as "HQ."

The bar was the social center and watering hole for the island's inhabitants on this part of the island. They were combat veterans from a variety of campaigns, mostly American, some of who were disabled, who had chosen for various reasons, to call this island home. Most had nowhere else to go, a few simply preferred to live amongst their own. For all, it was a welcome refuge. It was financed mostly by the A-Team's "Retirement Plan." though each vet did contribute what they could to the cause. Some of the vets brought family with them. The natives had a thriving village on the other end of the island, and relations with them were generally good. Adding to the non-native population were a bunch of cats and dogs, the first of which had come with some of the first vets, and gleefully reproduced ever since.

B. A. and Murdock moved inside the bar, which was still closed at the moment. On one of the back tables, a model of an F4U-1D Corsair was in its final stages. Murdock sat down and began checking things out, making sure nothing had been moved since he had last worked on the plane. B. A. chuckled as he watched, knowing what Murdock was doing. Nobody had touched Murdock's stuff. They knew better.

B. A. asked, "You want somethin'?"

"Coke would be good, Big Guy. Thanks."

B. A. poured milk for himself and opened a coke for Murdock and handed it to him, watching his friend in amazement. His movements were precise and sure. Airplanes were still in his blood, no matter the size.

The big man glanced around the room, taking in the hundred or so airplane models that hung from the ceiling or sat on shelves on the walls. Murdock had built them all since coming to the island and they were beautiful. B. A. couldn't figure out how he did it, but more especially how he could do it… when not being able to fly himself had to hurt so much.

B. A. looked at the plane. "You ever flown one of those?"

Murdock grinned "A Corsair? You bet! One time at an airshow in Indiana, a buddy of mine was flyin' one of these babies. He busted his arm falling out of a bar window, and couldn't fly, so he asked me to take over his part in the show. I did and had a ball."

Face and Hannibal had wandered in during the tale. "Did the plane survive?" Hannibal asked with a grin.

"Of course it did." There was a trace of indignation in Murdock's tone that made the others laugh. "I'm not sure the judges were thrilled, because I didn't follow the program exactly… because my buddy forgot to tell me what it was."

Face snickered. "Not the first time you've flown without a flight plan, Murdock."

Murdock's eyebrow raised, and he smiled. "That's affirmative, brother."

The bartender, Dink, an irascible old man of truly indiscernible age walked in from the back room. Dink was carrying a couple of cases of beer and some bags of pretzels in one arm, and a giant jar of pickles in the other. He was probably somewhere in his sixties, built like a tank, and rough as a cob. He ran the bar the same way he had lived as a soldier back in the day: honest, tough, and fair. He tolerated a certain number of shenanigans, and fights, but if any furniture got broken, the combatants had better be prepared to pay with a bit of blood along with their cash. And God help anyone who broke one of Murdock's models.

Hannibal looked up as Dink walked in. "Hey there. You need a hand?"

Dink nodded. "Yeah, and if any of you clowns start applauding, I'll throw a case of beer at you."

Face grinned as he took the jar. "No you won't. You love us, and you know it."

Dink rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. About as much as a dog loves fleas. Put those down on the back bar. The rest of the stuff is still in the jeep."

All four men, including Murdock headed for the jeep. Murdock was grinning. "Did you pick up my package, Dink?" he hollered.

"Yeah, I got it, and you owe me twenty bucks! You never said it was COD, you pirate!" He carefully pulled a FedEx box from the back of the jeep and handed it to Murdock.

Murdock grinned and headed inside. "Thanks. If this is the one I think it is, I've been waiting for this one for a while."

He took the package in and opened it. On top was a business sized envelope, a large manilla envelope, and underneath, a model kit. He set the envelopes aside and pulled out the kit. On top was taped an index card embossed in Braille. He ran his hands lightly over the words and grinned. "I had to wait for my buddy to translate all the instructions into Braille. These were kind of complicated. This one is actually two balsa wood models."

He pulled out the box to show them. "Montgolfier's Balloon, and The Spirit of St. Louis. I already did the Wright Flyer I." He absently waved a hand towards the ceiling, where his model of the Flyer floated on the breeze at the end of the string tethering it to a support beam, the only balsa wood model on display.

As he reached for the envelopes, Dink snapped his fingers. "Pay up Murdock. Don't think I've forgotten you owe me twenty!"

Murdock chuckled, pulled out his beat-up old wallet and handed Dink the money. "I wouldn't do that, Dink. You know that."

Dink nodded. "I know it." He took a good look at the wallet, which was severely worn and falling apart. "You need a new wallet, mate."

Face chuckled at the Australian's words. "He likes that one. I tried giving him a new wallet once. It didn't work out so well."

Dink began to wipe down the bar as a few vets trickled in and took up residence at the bar and a few of the tables. He chuckled. It seemed Face was in the mood to tell a story or two. They wouldn't be open for business for an hour or so yet, but somehow, many of the residents seemed to have some sort of radar. He grinned and settled back to listen...

 **~TBC~**


	2. Murdock and the Wallet

**HQ**

 **A Few Minutes Later...**

Face settled back in his chair and grinned at his audience. "See, I always have a hard time figuring out what to get Murdock for his birthday."

One of the guys interrupted, "That's easy. Get him a model!"

Face nodded. "Yeah, it's easy now, but it wasn't always that way, y'know. Back in the day, he hadn't picked up that hobby yet. Anyway, so, I wracked my brain trying to figure it out. Anyway, I found it finally, a really nice faux-alligator wallet."

It was telling that Face could use the word "faux" amongst a group of battle-hardened veterans and get away with it. They were used to his undying appreciation for the finer things in life.

Face continued, "I bought it and gave it to him on his birthday."

Someone else piped up, "So, did he like it or what?"

Face rolled his eyes at the memory and chuckled. "Yeah, actually he did. He moved all his stuff out of his old one into it. Carried it with him everywhere. Showed it off, even. That lasted for about three weeks."

"What happened?"

There had been no reaction from the subject of the story himself up until that point.

Murdock glanced in the direction of the speaker. "It bit me. That's what happened."

Murdock's habit of always looking directly where a voice was coming from tended to make them forget he couldn't see. In fact, except for the scar on the back of his head that was now mostly covered by his hair, there were no visible reminders of the gunshot that had taken his sight and precipitated the team's retirement to the island.

The questioner, Carrick, stared at Murdock for a moment, then looked over at Face. "Bit him? He seriously told you his wallet _bit_ him?"

Murdock frowned, "It did!"

Face shrugged. "That's what he told us when we picked him up one morning. He was using his old wallet. When I asked him why, he said the new one had attacked him. Bit him. He refused to use it after that. Claimed it was too dangerous. So he locked it in a drawer, and I bought him a box of golf balls." Face smirked at the memory of dealing with Murdock and his talking golf ball companions. "That turned out to be fun."

Carrick shook his head in disgust. "Jeez, what a nutjob."

Dead silence fell on the room for a few seconds. Murdock seemed to take no notice of the jibe as he deftly continued carefully sanding a model part. His friends knew better. He still struggled with his inner demons… and they were still his brothers.

Hannibal was sitting nearest Carrick and knew Face and B. A. would both be ready to flatten Carrick over his remark. And Dink would likely let them slide if they did. Carrick was one of the newest residents of the island, young and a bit brash. And he didn't have the score down yet as well as he thought he did. Hannibal considering taking Carrick out in private and reading him the riot act but decided there was a better way. One that would also let any other yay-hoo know where they stood as well.

He looked briefly at Carrick and then around at the others, surprised that most of the residents had trickled in during the story and were ranged around the room. "Captain Murdock has his issues. We all do. He's been through more crap then you could even _begin_ to imagine. This place is about respect. For each other, and for who we are and what we've been. Most of us never got that respect where we came from. Disrespect won't be tolerated here. Dislike… that's different. We're all adults. We can deal with that. But disrespect… uh-uh. You don't like it?" He paused and took a long draw on his cigar. "You know there's a supply boat down at the dock every Friday morning. Be on it."

There was a long silence, broken by Murdock, his voice laced with awe, "Whoa, Colonel! You sounded just like Harrison Ford in 'Air Force One,' Y'know the scene…" and he stood, and animatedly recreated the iconic moment from the movie, with a credible impression of the actor. "Get off my plane!"

The others laughed, the tension broken, Hannibal's point made.

 **~TBC~**


	3. Guilt--Misplaced

**A/N:** This chapter is in answer to those who have asked exactly how Murdock lost his vision. Thank you for your reviews. I was not sure how this story would be received, so I truly appreciate your encouragement! This chapter is a little dark, but I promise, there are plenty of light moments planned for this story.

 **~AT~**

 **Chapter Three—Guilt Misplaced**

 **Isla Dulce Hogar**

 **Two weeks later**

"So, how is he?" Hannibal wrinkled his brow in concern.

Finn sighed in frustration. "Bronchitis for sure, might be traces of pneumonia. It doesn't help that this isn't his first rodeo."

Hannibal flinched at the truth of those words. Pneumonia had been a problem for Murdock off and on over the years.

Finn continued. "He's sleeping at the moment. I increased the oxygen again and his breathing is better. He's dehydrated which is why I had Rocker put him on IV fluids when you brought him in. How the hell did this progress so fast without you guys spotting it?"

Hannibal shook his head. "You know Murdock. He just said he had a cold and wanted to hole up for a couple of days. Face checked on him a couple times a day and seemed to think he was getting better till last night. This hit him like a ton of bricks. Face went to check on him and found him sicker than hell, barely breathing. We called you as soon as we got him to the Infirmary."

"I'm glad you did. I'm sorry I wasn't on the island when you called, and I'm glad that Rocker was there." Finn smiled briefly. "I was actually at a doctor's appointment myself, and I stayed with my daughter overnight. I hate to make that trip twice in one day."

Hannibal nodded. The nearest city was Basseterre, on St. Kitts,* and that was well over three hundred miles away. If you flew, the trip took less than an hour. However, Finn was nearly as bad as B. A. about flying. He had his own boat, and when he went to town, he usually took two or three days. Basseterre was home to several fine medical facilities, and Dr. Andreas Finn had a lot of connections there, both professional and personal. He lived on Dulce Hogar but spent time with his daughter and her family on St. Kitts when he had the chance. He was the main doctor for the settlement, but there were two former medics, Rocker and James, who volunteered when the need arose.

Hannibal looked at the former Army combat surgeon. "So what's the bottom line? You think Murdock's gonna be okay?"

Finn sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I do. Obviously, it would have been better if we had caught it sooner, but I would say, overall, yeah. He should be fine. James and Rocker will help keep an eye on him. I know he hates staying down for any reason, but to tell you the truth, I think he feels so rotten right now, he shouldn't cause too much trouble, at least for a few days."

Hannibal nodded and thanked the doctor. Andreas Finn had come to the island two years ago and had been a Godsend for all of them… especially Murdock. It had cut back on the number of trips they had to make with him to St. Kitts significantly. Finn was not a psychiatrist by profession, but because he and Murdock had shared some similar experiences, Murdock found the younger man easy to talk to, and an expert at dispatching the purple wobblies.

 **~AT~**

Hannibal left the infirmary and nearly plowed into Face, who had been pacing outside nervously while Hannibal talked to Finn. They began to walk towards the beach.

"So, what's the verdict? Is he gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, kid, he is. May take a few days, but he should be fine. He's come through a lot worse, you know."

Face shuddered. "Yeah, I know. How could I forget?"

Hannibal heard the guilt in the other man's voice. He frowned. "Face, you have got to let that go. Murdock's getting shot was not your fault. It happened years ago, he's adjusted really well, and we're all still alive. That's what you have to hang on to."

Face sighed. "I know, and most of the time I don't even think about it… but sometimes, like today. I know he'll be okay… but, what if he isn't? What if—"

Hannibal stopped and turned to look at his lieutenant. "Stop it. Face, you cannot live on what ifs. If you do that, you're gonna wind up driving yourself crazy for no reason. 'What if' means nothing. It happened, and nothing will ever change that. Look at it this way. What if you had shown up earlier? It could have gone even worse. You both could have been killed. The girl could have died. People on the bus could have gotten killed. It could have ended up in some huge stand-off. You don't know what could have happened if you had been there sooner. So don't do that."

Face nodded as he stared out at the waves. "It just hurts."

Hannibal nodded. "I know." He put his hand on Face's shoulder for a moment, before turning back toward the settlement. "You comin'?"

Face shook his head. "Not right now. Think I'll hang out here for a while."

Hannibal nodded. "Okay, kid. You know where I am."

Face smiled slightly. "Yeah. I know."

After Hannibal had gone back up the trail, Face wandered over to the hammock someone had strung between two trees. He lay back and looked up into the nearly perfect blue sky fringed by palm fronds. He shut his eyes, listening to the gently lapping waves and the seabirds calling. He would never know exactly what happened before he got there that day, but he knew Murdock. He knew that as unpredictable as he could be, Murdock was still a creature of habit. And that bus bench was a good example. They had met there several times. He had always pulled up, and Murdock would jump into the 'vette, talking a mile a minute. Until the day he didn't.

And Face was left to wonder. He opened his eyes for a moment and breathed in the tangy salt air and watched the bugs flitting aimlessly. It was a good place to be alone… to think…to wonder… He closed his eyes once more… and his mind filled in the blanks once again… just like they had every day for the past seven years. It was as if after so long, he had been there, seen it all. And it all spiraled back to the same thing. _What if?_

 **~AT~**

 **Saturday 17 Jul 93**

 **0912 hours**

 **West Orange Avenue**

 **Los Angeles, CA**

 **Murdock**

Heat. Nasty, unrelenting, oppressive. It felt like someone had dropped a mile-thick smoggy blanket right on the heads of the people of the City of Angels. Like that blanket was doing its best to suffocate every living soul in the city. It was day nine of a record heatwave with no end in sight. Rolling blackouts were in effect, randomly robbing various Angelinos of air conditioning and home entertainment. Even normally mild-tempered citizens were going off the wall. The mean ones were getting deadly.

On a bus bench downtown, one man sat completely oblivious to the heat, and the tension. H. M. Murdock had slipped away from the VA, and he intended to make the most of it. He was going to do his best to talk his best friend into going and having some fun. He wore his bomber jacket, same as he always did. Even if he had been paying attention to the weather, the heat would not have bothered him. Southern California had nothing on Da Nang, and never would.

Contrary to appearances, Murdock was a patient man. He tended to fidget a lot, but he could sit in one spot for hours on end—motionless if he had to. Waiting didn't bother him any more than the heat did. His secret was that he would do what he termed 'People Wondering.' He had tried to explain it to Face one time. "I just watch the people around me, pick somebody, and tried to figure what their life is like and where they came from… why they are the way they are. Doesn't matter if I'm right or not. It makes time go by faster, which is the point."

 _Face had just smiled and nodded absently, his focus on something else entirely as usual._ Murdock hadn't tried to explain it again. It really didn't matter, anyway.

He had been wondering about the package delivery guy across the street when he first saw the girl. She was nicely dressed, like an office worker, maybe. Her long dark hair was pulled back and pinned up, and she wore heels, a black skirt, and a pretty white blouse. A black blazer was draped over one arm, and she carried what looked like a fairly new briefcase. Her makeup was understated, but nicely applied. Definitely professional. He judged her to be in her mid-twenties, maybe a recent business school graduate… someone just starting out.

She sat down on the bench next to him and pulled an item out of her briefcase. He happened to catch a glance of the paper, and realized it was a resumé. He smiled. He had been right… just starting her career.

Usually, he stayed quiet unless someone spoke to him first. But something made him want to connect to this girl. "You have a job interview on a Saturday?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide, and he realized he had startled her. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to snoop." He smiled apologetically.

"No, that's okay. I-I was just concentrating, I guess. I'm nervous. You're right. I do have an interview. The interviewer is doing me a favor by seeing me today. It's the only time I could—" She broke off as if she had started to say something unintentionally. Her voice took on an intense tone. "I just have to get this job!"

Murdock chuckled. "Easy, Chiquita. There are lots of jobs out there."

She shook her head. "No, you can't understand. This could be my only chance!"

He didn't really understand, but he wasn't going to argue with her, either. "In that case, I really hope you get the job."

She smiled but said nothing further as she reached back into the soft-sided case and began straightening already straight files. Murdock's heart hurt for her… she really was nervous.

Murdock leaned back and closed his eyes. He must have drifted off, because it took a minute for his brain to catch up when suddenly, a large angry man grabbed the girl off the bench, and she began struggling with him, yelling at him that he didn't own her. Instinctively, Murdock jumped up and tried to pull her away, to protect her. He pushed her behind him, and the man turned and ran off. Murdock was confused by his sudden retreat, until he turned and saw the reason. They were safe because the bus had pulled up just then.

He turned to her and asked if she was okay. "I am. He just scared me. I'll be more careful next time. My mother was right. I need a restraining order." She picked up her briefcase and blazer. "Thank you. You saved my life."

Murdock kissed her on the cheek. "No, Chiquita. It looks to me like you were doing that for yourself long before we ever met. Take care of yourself."

She nodded and hurried to board the bus, waving to him as it pulled away and around the corner. He watched it disappear, and hoped the girl would, indeed, be okay.

Later, when telling his friends the story, Murdock could remember every detail up to that moment. He knew that for some reason, he had never felt the danger… not to her, and not to himself. He could never understand how he could have let it happen, but he did, and he paid the price for his carelessness.

He sat back down on the bench, alone now, and waited for Face. He never heard the shot.

 **~AT~**

 **0920 hours**

 **East Orange Avenue**

 **Face**

He was cursing himself for forgetting to gas up last night. He had come off the freeway and realized he was almost on empty. He had to stop on the way to pick up Murdock to get gas, because the 'vette would not tolerate running on fumes. And he didn't fancy running out of gas less than three blocks from the VA. Not that there would be any huge penalty in store for Murdock if he got caught, but they would likely make him go back. And Face didn't want that to happen, because he had a special surprise in store for his best friend.

He had a friend who worked for Disney Studios, and he had scored Face two tickets to Disneyland's birthday celebration. It was an all-night party that you had to have special tickets for. The party would start at 2000 hours that night. Face chuckled to himself. He had begun to think of the impending outing as a military assault, which, given the likely crowd, was probably pretty accurate. He checked his watch. He was about seven minutes away, so he wouldn't be more than ten minutes late. _What could happen in ten minutes, right?_

 **~AT~**

 **0927 hours**

 **The Bus Stop**

Face glanced at his watch as he came through the intersection and smirked. Seven minutes on the dot. He could see his friend from down the block. Murdock was sitting at an odd angle on the bench, leaning slightly forward and slumped to the right. Maybe he was communing with ants on the bench. Face didn't know, but he expected him to jump up when he heard the 'vette. They both knew Face couldn't park at the stop. He had nearly gotten a ticket the last time he tried that, when Murdock had decided to run back to the VA for something he had forgotten.

He pulled closer, and realized something was very wrong, because Murdock hadn't moved at all. And that was when two things hit Face at the same time. One, Murdock's navy ball cap was lying in the dirt in front of the bench, and two, his best friend was bleeding.

He vaulted over the door of the 'vette and ran to Murdock. There was a hole in the back of his skull. A small caliber bullet hole. No exit wound. He grabbed Murdock's wrist. His pulse was rapid and weak, his breathing shallow. He tumbled into the car and called for help.

He hung up with the emergency operator and ran back to Murdock. He wanted to hold him, pull him into his lap, but he was afraid to move him. Afraid of shifting the bullet invading his head. Templeton Peck was scared to death. He settled for putting his hand on his friend's—his brother's—shoulder.

Less than five minutes later, paramedics and police were on the scene. They got Murdock to the hospital, and Face spent some time telling the cops who questioned him what he had seen… which was exactly _nothing_. The police were not particularly optimistic. They told him that drive-bys were common in the area, as well as gang activity. It was possible his friend had just simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Face stared at the detective for a moment. _No shit_. They would be in touch. And then Face was in the 'vette, heading to the hospital. He called Hannibal on the way.

 **~AT~**

 **Harbor General Hospital ****

 **Los Angeles**

What followed were three of the longest days of Face's life. The operation was successful, in that they removed the bullet. They just had to wait for Murdock to wake up before they could confirm what they suspected. Because of where it had hit him, there was extensive damage to his optic nerve. And if it was as bad as the surgeon suspected, that damage would spell disaster for the pilot.

Later, that first night, Face drove by himself to Anaheim. He had not told the others about his plans. He spent the drive crying. He didn't want anyone to see the tickets now. He knew if Murdock found out about them it would only make things worse. He parked across the street from the entrance and simply watched for a while. Eventually, he got out of the car, and looked around till he found a family who looked as if they might like the tickets. Silently, he handed them to the dad. When the man started to reach for his wallet, Face shook his head. "If you can't use them, sell them. Buy something nice for your kids."

He got back in the car and watched as the family stared at him in disbelief for a moment… and then hurried away, chattering excitedly.

 **~AT~**

Murdock woke on morning three. By that afternoon, after myriad tests, the doctors confirmed it. Murdock asked only one question after they told him his sight was completely impaired. He was blind. He was quiet for a few minutes, absorbing the news. "Permanent?"

Hannibal, Face and B. A. were with him when the doctor answered his question. "Barring some sort of miracle, yes. The damage is permanent. I am terribly sorry."

Murdock nodded. "Okay." He said nothing more, and they had been ushered out of the room when the nurse came to give him some medication. When they went back to the room, the light was off and Murdock was asleep… or seemed to be. Face had wanted to stay with him, which was when they discovered he had asked to be left alone for a while. They respected his wishes.

They bought the island six weeks after Murdock came home from the hospital. Within a year, they had hung up their guns.

 **~AT~**

 **The Island**

Face sighed as he sat up and began the walk back to HQ … He hiked slowly, enjoying the beauty of this island home they had forged for themselves. He thought about what Hannibal had said. Murdock _had_ adjusted incredibly well. He was happy… most of the time. They all were.

And Face resolved to let go of the past, because what they had now? Well, what they had now was pretty fine. He listened to the sounds of a pick-up basketball game in progress, to the low chatter of guys playing cards, to the sounds of the residents going about their business in peace and freedom. _Life was good_.

 **~TBC~**

 **A/N:** * St. Kitt is a popular nickname, short for St. Christopher Island in the Caribbean. Basseterre is the main city on St. Kitts. My fictional island of Isla del Dulce Hogar (Spanish for Sweet Home Island) is located about 300 miles southwest of St. Kitts and Nevis, the country made up by the two islands St. Kitts and Nevis. ** Harbor General was a fictional hospital that existed along with Rampart in the Emergency! 'verse. This is just my little homage.


	4. Celebrations

**Three Weeks Later**

 **Isla Dulce del Hogar**

The smell of grilling steak and seafood was rich in the air. Tables were set up outside HQ and heavily laden with platters of roasted corn, beans, fresh fruit, a variety of salads, breads and desserts. Several of the guys were laughingly taking turns turning the handle of an old-fashioned ice cream churn.

Murdock had been released from the hospital the day before and was seated in a chaise lounge. He was dressed in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. He was pale but was feeling much better. He had talked Finn into letting him out in time for the festivities. He was also in charge of the massive sound system they had rigged against one outside wall of HQ. It had been said that in times of dire need, Dink's sound system could be used to guide lost ships to shore. No one in the settlement had any doubts about the validity of that claim at all. At the moment, "Wooly Bully" by Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs was blasting over the proceedings.

The party that was about to begin would last all weekend and would celebrate the settlement's birthday. It had taken a while to get everything together after Murdock had been shot. The team had been at loose ends for a while and then Face had sort of wound up in possession of the island and the rest was history. They eventually established the settlement itself five years ago. And that was why they had decorated the courtyard and planned a helluva fifth birthday party for everyone on the island.

Within a few hours most of the residents of the island, villagers included, had gathered in the common area to eat, drink and exchange even more ridiculous tall tales and outright lies than usual. Of course, mixed in with all the malarkey would be a good dose of truth, but they never let facts stand in the way of a good time at any rate.

After everyone had stuffed themselves silly and the alcohol had been flowing fairly freely for a while, Murdock turned the music down, and story time began in earnest. They had not yet cut the huge birthday cake that sat in a place of honor on a table by itself, protected by mosquito netting, as was all of the food.

Lt. Olivetti, a young retired SEAL who was a recent arrival on the island was studying the cake with interest. He had left his prosthetic left arm off on this occasion, as he often did when he was planning on playing in the ocean. He turned to their resident storyteller. "Hey Faceman, just how did you guys manage to end up buying an island anyway? I mean, everybody knows all about the A-Team and all the stuff you did… being in Los Angeles, and all, and then you guys just disappeared after that, and I get that it was because of Captain Murdock and all, but how did it happen? I mean, what? You guys just looked at each other one day and said, 'let's go buy an island'?"

Face rolled his eyes. "No, not exactly. It's kind of a long story, and sort of complicated. You don't really wanna hear it anyway. Let me tell you about the time…"

Murdock immediately protested. "Oh no you don't, Facey! That is a classic piece of Settlement History! If you don't tell the story, I will!"

Face glowered as Hannibal broke in and settled the argument. " _I'll_ tell the story."

Murdock cracked up when he heard B. A. chuckle softly from the picnic bench where he was working on the motorcycle engine he had torn down in front of him. Murdock knew it was a safe bet that B. A. was surrounded by a gaggle of kids. There were about twenty kids ranging from infants to about twelve years old amongst the vets families, plus a couple dozen children roughly the same age amongst the villagers. There were also a few teenagers in both the Settlement and the village, and B. A.s ability to relate to them had been a godsend.

Hannibal thought back to the difficult days after they had brought Murdock home after the shooting…

The part that never made it into any retelling of those days was how hard it had been for his friends to cope with the new version of Murdock that existed for a long time after the shooting.

It wasn't that his psychological problems disappeared. They still manifested themselves at times. What was hard was how Murdock himself dealt with his problems. It was as if he turned in on himself. He cooperated in every aspect of caring for himself and never caused any difficulties of any kind. He ate, drank, and took his medications. But, he was so still and silent, he could have easily been mistaken for a house plant.

His normally animated features were bleak and empty. He showed no interest in listening to the radio. Face spent hours trying to engage him in conversation to no avail. No matter how hard he tried, B. A. had no luck in baiting him into an argument. Hannibal's most stern command voice ordering him out of his funk seemed to fall on deaf ears. They were at a complete loss and very much afraid the good captain was lost to them forever.

The answer hit Hannibal right between the eyes in the dead of the night about a month into Murdock's self-exile. Hannibal sat straight up in bed and grabbed the phone, oblivious of the time. He called a good friend, a fellow vet they had known in Vietnam. Hannibal had realized exactly how to bring Murdock back to himself.

Murdock made no protest when Face came into his room the next morning and told him to get ready to go to town. He never protested anything. Never questioned anything.

They piled into the van and headed for the one place they had not been since the shooting… the airport. Their buddy Mike had recently opened a small commercial freight delivery service, and Hannibal had hired him the night before. And Mike was more than happy to take the job.

Purposely, Hannibal and B. A. had rolled down their windows, knowing that as soon as they got close to the airport, Murdock would know it, and he did.

"What are we doin' over by the airport, guys?"

No one said anything at first, but they were all happy to hear the pilot's voice after nearly a month of silence.

Murdock turned towards Face. "Come on, Facey. What's goin' on?"

Face shrugged. "Well, we just figured you need a change of scenery. You've been cooped up inside way too long. Thought you might like to go for a ride."

Hannibal nearly choked on the cigar he was in the process of lighting but managed to cover it before anyone in the back noticed. B. A., however, smirked at him, before breaking into a full-fledged grin.

They pulled into the parking lot of "G. I. Bill's Delivery Service" and Mike Malone, a stocky, six-foot grizzled blond with startingly bright blue eyes strode quickly from the office to meet them, shaking hands all around. Hannibal quirked his chin at the sign on the business, which featured a caricature of a soldier in full BDUs. " _G. I. Bill's_ , Mike?"

Mike grinned. "You like that? My own artwork even! I bought this place on the G. I. Bill, so I figured, why the hell not?"

Hannibal chuckled. "Makes sense." He signaled silently to Face, who surreptitiously guided Murdock off towards the three planes parked on the tarmac.

Mike looked at Hannibal. "So, have you told him?"

Hannibal shook his head. "No, not yet."

"How do you think he's gonna react?"

"We're about to find out."

They needn't have worried. Other than some initial hesitation when they presented the idea, it was a little like the moment Mr. Limpet turned into a fish.* He was exactly where he belonged, even if he couldn't really see that well. He knew it was something he could never do on his own, but for that day… Mike was his eyes… and Murdock flew.

And his friends watched from the ground and screamed and cheered at the top of their lungs. Face would never tell anyone, but he would swear till his dying day that those really were tears he saw glinting in B. A.'s eyes.

Mike and Murdock landed after flying for an hour. Just before they landed, the group on the ground watched the plane pull one of Murdock's signature maneuvers: barrel rolls pulling out into a long loop-the-loop and up into a stall. The plane dropped down and started again, and then landed as if on a carton of eggs.

Murdock jumped out of the plane chattering a mile a minute. Mike climbed out looking like he just might strangle someone, but he still managed a chuckle as Face rushed over to Murdock and the pilot nearly mowed his best friend down.

Hannibal caught up with Mike on his way back into the office. "Thanks, Mike, we really own you one. I'm sorry about those aerobatics. I didn't think he'd try that."

Mike shook his head. "Ah, hell, I did. I remember what it was like flying with him. I would have been disappointed if he hadn't tried it, actually. And I was worried about him when I first saw him, so, yeah, I'm glad it worked. But I gotta get back to work. I got a cool gig comin' up though. Somethin' Face might be interested in."

"Yeah?"

"Flyin' this couple out to some island in the Caribbean. Supposed to be a bunch of high-rollers out there. Beautiful place. Lotsa rich, beautiful people… you know, his type. He might be able to get somethin' good goin' there. Tell him I'm leavin' Saturday at 1100 if he wants to hitch a ride."

Hannibal nodded. "I'll tell him. We got nothin' else going on."

Hannibal thought about it on the way back to the beach house. Indeed, they didn't have any plans at all. They had plenty of money, thanks to Face always putting half of their net fees away in a protected account. He wasn't worried about that. But he was worried about boredom.

B. A. never had that problem. He could always find something to keep himself busy, either tearing apart the engine on his van, overhauling a neighbor's vehicle or keeping busy with the kids in the neighborhood. Face, Hannibal worried about. A bored Face could definitely be a problem. He figured Face spending a few days down in the Caribbean with Mike might just be the answer. He had no idea that trip would wind up changing all their lives.

Mike normally didn't carry passengers, only freight, though he was rated for international flights and allowed to carry up to six passengers. But he usually flew alone. Preferred it that way. Always had. Therefore, he might have been forgiven the fact that he really hadn't paid much attention to his passengers other than to check their passports and take their money. He listened to their stories about the island in the Caribbean and agreed that it sounded like heaven if you were into gambling and the high life. He wasn't, but that was fine. He was familiar with the area, however, having flown several times to St. Thomas, which was a very popular tourist destination. He had a deal with several resorts in the area to deliver supplies, though it was a helluva long flight, and he didn't do it often, because it basically meant flying cross country to Florida and then down past Puerto Rico to Basseterre on the island of St. Christopher, known to the locals as St. Kitts.

 **~AT~**

Face played co-pilot as he often had for Murdock. He didn't know a damned thing about flying the six-seat Beechcraft, but he had no desire to sit anywhere near the clutching newlyweds in the seats behind them. He had no problem with PDA (he was NO kind of prude for Pete's sake) but being caught in mid-flight in a glorified toaster oven with two overgrown teenagers playing tonsil hockey was not his idea of a good time. Mike knew exactly what Face was thinking, and he personally found the whole thing hilarious. Mike eventually drew the line when he heard some suspiciously loud zipping noises. He glanced over his shoulder and simply stated. "Clothes stay on, folks, unless you wanna take it to the basement."

There was silence for a moment as the couple tried to sort out his meaning, and then the husband bit. "There's a basement?"

Face nearly choked but managed to keep it together. Mike deadpanned. "Sure there is, but you'll need your parachutes."

The couple was quiet and a helluva lot calmer for the rest of the flight.

 **~AT~**

Eventually, they made it to Basseterre, where they spent the night, and Mike spent some time tuning up the plane. He was not thrilled that the couple was a bit vague about the location of the island paradise they were supposed to be headed to. The man had the coordinates, but no map. Worse, no one in Basseterre had heard of the island, exactly. They knew it was out there, but not its name, nor anything about it. It didn't sound like much of an island to Mike. Face, in his typical sunshine-or-die fashion was a lot more optimistic.

Face rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "This is gonna be fun!"

Mike looked straight at Face, scowling. "We're idiots. We're gonna die out there."

 **~TBC~**

 **A/N: *** Reference to the 1964 Warner Brothers movie "The Incredible Mr. Limpet."


	5. Conning a Conman

**A/N:** My apologies for the long delay in updating this story. Mostly it has been due to health issues, although I will cop to the fact that the last part of this scene was being stubborn. I did not finish it until this morning! I'm sorry it's short, but as I said, my muse was stubborn on this one. I am hoping to get an update posted much sooner as I have actually gotten the next chapter nearly finished… the scene was much more cooperative with me than this one was (but Murdock always is, lol.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and please, let me know what you think! Thanks for your input, Xav-you rock, as always! Hugs to all!

 **At the Party**

Hannibal used his best command voice. "Okay, folks, settle down! Story time!"

He soon had everyone fairly quiet and paying attention.

Face groused, "Aw, Hannibal, you're not really gonna tell the whole story, are you? After all, Mike's not even here to defend himself!"

Hannibal grinned. "Face, you're the one who got conned. He was just along for the ride. I mean, that couple had you guys convinced this island was full of vicious headhunters before they were done, right?"

His listeners erupted into hysterical laughter at his words. Especially because a good number of those "vicious headhunters" were sitting in the audience at that very moment.

Face sighed. "Yeah, okay. But how was I supposed to know the chick really did own the island and was just lookin' to unload it because she wanted the money?"

Carrick spoke up then. "So why would they tell you there was headhunters on the island? That doesn't make any sense."

Face blushed as Hannibal laughed even harder. "Because it turned out the wife was a worse drunk than Face. Apparently, the more rum and cokes you get into the two of them, the wilder the stories they tell. They ended up at a dive in Basseterre attempting to drink each other under the table. The husband was a lightweight. He passed out early on. Mike stayed out of it and pretty much just played referee. He couldn't afford to get too wasted. By the end of the evening, well, Face had agreed to rid it of the 'scurrilous hordes of savages.'"

Face protested. "Now wait a minute! I never said any such thing!"

Hannibal chuckled. "The hell you didn't! Mike wrote it down. He thought it was funny as hell." He turned back to his listeners. "The best part of the whole story is that by the time Face sobered up the next morning, he and Mike realized Face had signed a binding contract and bought the damned island lock stock and barrel, because the girl had convinced him only a landlord could actually evict the cannibals!"

Face sighed in defeat. "The problem is, I think at the time she made perfect sense."

Again, the residents of the island roared with laughter.

Carrick asked, "So why didn't you just go find them and get your money back?"

Hannibal fielded that one. "They were smart. The money for the full payment transferred immediately, and they disappeared before Face and Mike could track them down. And that, ladies and gents, is how we ended up with the island."

Olivetti grinned. "I'll bet that first meeting with the villagers was interesting."

Face grimaced. "'Interesting' is definitely an understatement. If it hadn't been for the fact that fate was on our side for once, we just might have found ourselves in all kinds of hot water… um… no pun intended. " The villagers groaned and cracked up.

Olivetti looked at him. "Oh, what happened?"

"Well, you know, it makes no difference where we are in the world, as vets, we're bound by blood and by creed, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"When Mike and I flew over to the island we were pretty nervous. It was beautiful, but desolate. I don't mind telling you we were scared. The picture that girl had painted was scary, alright. We really weren't sure what to expect. We landed on the beach and several big dudes with rifles stepped out and surrounded us and led us back to their village. They were nearly silent and not particularly friendly. We figured we were in big trouble. Everyone in that village closed ranks around us then, and an argument broke out amongst them, though it was in a language neither of us understood. It got pretty heated, and I was sort of wondering if they were debating on how they wanted to cook us."

That remark brought more laughter from the villagers and Face grinned as he continued his story. "Anyway, suddenly from one of the huts comes this big booming voice yelling what had to be "Knock it off!" or something to that effect, because it got dead quiet in a heartbeat. This big, handsome guy stepped out, and I was never so happy to see anybody in my life."

A laugh boomed out from the back of the group and a deep voice piped up, "And I never expected to see you again after Vietnam, either, Faceman!"

Everybody turned to look at the speaker.

A large bronzed villager about Face's age stepped from the crowd. Tano Kaáoli had been one of Face's friends for years. They had met in Vietnam. Tano had been unusual in the fact that his people were fairly insular, and rarely left their island paradise. He had been a restless young man and had fled as soon as he could secure his father's blessing to do so at age 17. He had caught a ride on a fishing vessel from Basseterre and traveled all over the islands, eventually working his way up to the United States. He was not a U. S. citizen, but he had gotten his green card and he needed a job, so he joined the Army. He knew this meant he couldn't become an officer unless he decided to become a U. S. citizen, but he didn't much care. He figured it would at least give him a bed and three squares a day, which it did. But he had never counted on Vietnam. Never counted on what that place would do to him... to his soul.

But it also gave him a lifelong friendship with a wily, brave, and fiercely loyal Templeton Peck. They had saved each other's butts more than once, though Tano had eventually lost track of Temp when Peck had been transferred to an Alpha team. Tano had been assigned to a combat unit and had never heard from his buddy until the day he and Mike had been dragged into the village common. It was that reunion that eventually led to the event they were celebrating. Tano helped smooth the negotiations that paved the way for the team buying the island, and the agreement that the islanders owned their side in perpetuity.

Face grinned cheekily at the man. "Ah, Tano, you have no idea! You coulda knocked me over with a feather, my friend!"

Hannibal interrupted, grinning. "Well, see, that just proves my theory."

Face looked over at him. "Yeah, and what theory is that?"

Hannibal took a puff off his cigar and then held it for a moment, studying the tip. Face knew he was up to his old tricks, using the moment for a dramatic pause. He rolled his eyes and groaned as he was proven right when Hannibal loosed the zinger.

"Fate always has a plan, and eventually the plan _always_ comes together!"

 **~TBC~**


	6. Sweet Revenge

**At the Settlement**

Murdock had long been fascinated with the Bermuda Triangle. It bugged him that they were so close to the triangle here on the island and yet, he could not get anyone to take him out to visit it. He tried telling them it was perfectly safe as long as they went in the daytime and had Billy with them because Billy's sense of direction could never be messed up by electrical interference or whatever the problem was out in the Triangle. No one seemed inclined to want to push their luck, so Murdock seemed destined never to get to visit one of his favorite spots on Earth.

That is, until he got a message from a mysterious benefactor one day. He normally was pretty cautious about who he traveled with, but unknown to Face and the others, he had been having some problems with his meds. He hadn't wanted to worry them, and he really did not want to end up going to see the shrink on Basseterre. And so, he kept quiet. But he had been feeling depressed and rather bitter over the past week or so. And that's why, when Carrick found him sitting at a picnic table by himself outside HQ a couple of weeks after the party, he was able to gain his trust… something that under normal circumstances would never have happened.

Carrick settled onto the bench next to the older pilot. "You look down, Murdock. What's wrong?"

"I wanna go see the Bermuda Triangle, an' nobody wants ta go with me. I'm stuck here."

The wheels started turning in Carrick's beady little brain. He hated Murdock and the other members of his team because they had made him look foolish in from of the other members of the Settlement. And he could not allow that to continue. He smiled as he listened to Murdock's whining. The idiot had just handed him the perfect revenge, and if he played his cards right, no one would ever figure out what had happened. He wanted off this godforsaken damned island anyway. He just had to figure out how to steal the plane that he would use to take Murdock to the Triangle. And then he would have his revenge. Besides, he had an ace in the hole. He had been around long enough to know that Murdock absolutely loved Christmas. It was his favorite time of the year, and he knew that the pilot loved spoiling his friends. And so, once he had secured the plane, and perfected his plan, Carrick knew exactly how he would approach the pilot, and talk him into going with him

 **A Few Days Later**

 **On the Beach**

Carrick found Murdock sitting alone on the beach, facing the waves. He approached cautiously, checking for an escort, because he knew it was likely that someone would be around. There always was. To his surprise, he found no one, which meant the wily bastard must have snuck out. Carrick smiled because that meant the pilot had played right into his hands. He walked towards the seated man and called out before he got within ten feet, knowing that Murdock would have heard him coming. "Hey, Murdock, you want some company?"

The pilot merely shrugged, and Carrick plopped down on the sand next to him. "So, I was thinking about our talk the other day. How about this? It's nearly Christmas, so how about I take you to the Triangle and then over to Basseterre to do some Christmas shopping? We could stay overnight and then come back the next afternoon. I got a friend who owns a store over there and she could give you some good deals."

Murdock sighed as he thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so. Only, we can't tell the other guys, because if they knew, Face would want to tag along. He never wants me to do stuff without him, and I know he wants me to see the docs over there about my meds again. I don't wanna talk to anybody."

Carrick smirked. That was completely fine with him. _He didn't want the pilot to talk with anybody either._

And that was how Carrick got Murdock down to the plane with him early the next morning. Carrick had scammed the plane from its owner by telling him there was a medical emergency on the island and that he would have the plane back to him by the next day. The old man who gave him the plane had worked at the airfield for a while, and had run this same scam himself a few times, so he never really thought much about it. In fact he put the whole matter out of his mind, the two hundred dollars Carrick gave him helping to smooth the memory on its way to oblivion.

 **The Next Morning**

 **In the Air**

For his part, Murdock was just happy to be back up in a plane. He took the right seat... the peter pilot's seat. It felt so right... he felt as if he had come home. He might not be able to see, but he could sense everything about the flight. And he loved every minute of it. He was under no illusions. He knew he was not actually the pilot. He also knew it was a long flight out to the middle of the Triangle, which was where Carrick had agreed to take him before turning towards Basseterre. Unfortunately, because of the fact he couldn't see, and because he had not set the headings himself, he had no real sense of where they were. He had no clue what Carrick had planned. The first inkling of danger came a couple of hours in when he heard Carrick messing with the controls. Murdock realized that Carrick had taken them off automatic pilot, which made no sense at this point in the flight. They hadn't been in the air long enough to have reached the center of the Triangle. That was one thing he was certain of.

He turned towards the other man. "Hey Carrick. What's going on? Why are we going manual?"

Carrick never answered. He only stood and walked down the aisle of the small plane. Murdock frowned, listening to the sounds around him. And when he heard the familiar sounds of the hatch being opened, and felt the sudden rush of air, he realized the awful truth. The hatch was still open, the plane was beginning to lose altitude... and Carrick had jumped out of the plane. Which left him alone and blind...and heading for the ocean over the Triangle. If he didn't do something... _right now_ , he was a dead man.

Murdock forced himself to think rationally. First things first. He had to get the automatic pilot back on and he had to get the hatch closed. The hatch had to come first, because the AP would not engage with the hatch open. He cleared his mind and forced himself to concentrate. He steadied himself and tried to orient himself in relation to the floor of the plane. All his old instincts began kicking in, and he realized the angle of the plane was not yet critical.

He made his way back to the doorway and was happy when he ran into the hatch door on the floor. At least Carrick hadn't pitched it out when he jumped. It took some trial and error, but Murdock got the hatch sealed and then went back to the cockpit and for the first time in a very long time, sat in the pilot's seat. And he was all alone, literally flying blind.

He forced himself to relax, because panicking would only get him killed. He whistled for Billy, who had stayed hidden in the back during the flight, since he really didn't like strangers. Not that Carrick was a stranger exactly, but Billy didn't come around much when he wasn't comfortable, and he had never showed himself when Carrick was around. Murdock sighed. He should have known better than to trust someone Billy didn't like. He slanted his eyes over to his oldest friend. Billy had been with him for a lot of years and bailed him out of trouble more than once. Murdock felt reassured that Billy seemed calm and unruffled by their current predicament. He chuckled and asked the Jack Russell, "So you're my peter pilot* today, but you know you're a lot more important than that, right?"

"Course I do, muchacho. Now, you got yourself into a little bit of a jam, y'know. Your instruments are going a bit wonky, and that idiot didn't leave you enough gas to get to Basseterre. You know that, right?"

Murdock sighed. "I didn't, but it kinda figures, now that I think about it. I don't know why he hates me, though. What did I ever do to him, anyway?"

Billy shrugged. It wasn't his job to figure out human motivations. He had enough headaches just trying to keep up with his best friend.

Murdock frowned. "So if I can't get to Basseterre, then I need to get back home. Only, I have no idea where home is. I got no idea where I am."

Billy snorted. "Well, I think that was the whole idea. So, what are we gonna do?"

Murdock thought about it. "Well, I've done this before. Hannibal was my eyes that time on the 747.** No reason you can't be my eyes this time, right?"

Billy tipped his head, considering the idea. "I suppose I could. I mean, I've watched you do it plenty of times."

"Okay, then! Let's fly this thing! All you gotta do is tell me which way to go, and I'll change the coordinates accordingly. Should be a piece of cake."

Billy agreed and together, they made the necessary course corrections. The flight went smoothly for about half an hour, until suddenly the plane began to buck, and Murdock realized the yoke was not responding the way it should. Suddenly, the plane began to pitch and roll.

"Billy, what's happening? It feels like we're off course… we're loose!"

"That's because we are! The instruments are going nuts!" Billy stared in alarm as all the dials and gauges began spinning wildly, and a couple of alarms began sounding. At the same time, Murdock realized what had to be happening. He had done plenty of research into the phenomenon. They were caught in the magnetic distortion field of the Bermuda Triangle. The one from which no one had ever returned. Murdock turned towards Billy. "Hang on muchacho, I think we're in trouble!"

 **~TBC~**

 **A/N:** * peter pilot is a Vietnam era term for co-pilot, but generally refers to one who is considered not particularly important...only there to satisfy army regs. ** Refers to A-Team episode "Beast from the Belly of a Boeing," Season 1 Episode 13.


	7. The Triangle and Beyond

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **At the Settlement**

Face had just come back from visiting his buddy Tano over in the village. He looked around for Murdock at the tables outside HQ, but didn't see him. He figured he was either inside, working on a model, or maybe sacked out in his hooch. (Of course, the wooden huts they called home were a good deal sturdier and much nicer than the shacks and tents they had lived in over in 'Nam, but the slang term had stuck, and old habits died hard among the older vets.)

He checked the hut and found it empty. He then wandered into the bar, and was a little surprised to find it deserted except for Dink, who was pulling out the storm windows. "We got trouble coming, Dink?"

"Not yet, but my knee is tellin' me there's a storm blowin' our way in the next few days, an' she's gonna raise hell with us."

Face frowned. "Funny, Tano didn't say anything while I was over there."

Dink shrugged. "The villagers wouldn't. Storms are a normal part of life to them… they just deal with them and move on. They figure if we don't know how to survive a storm out here, then we don't deserve to live on the island."

Hannibal's low chuckle came from behind them as he leaned against the doorframe. He grinned around his freshly lit cigar. "They're right. We should know how to handle storms. We've been through a couple already. I'll get B. A. and some of the others working on pulling supplies and equipment together and bringing it in here. If we have to we can send for more supplies from Basseterre. By air if we need to. Face, you go talk to Doc about what he needs. Either of you seen Murdock?"

Dink shook his head and reached for another window cover and Hannibal took it from him and leaned it against the the bar. "I haven't seen him all day, which is a little surprising. I have a package for him. Came in on the supply boat this morning. I know he's expecting another model from his buddy."

Face stared at Hannibal. "This isn't right. I haven't seen him since last night, and his hut is empty. His jacket and hat were gone, too."

Hannibal scowled. "Okay, he's got to be around here somewhere. He can't have wandered off very far. He wouldn't do that. Face, you and B. A. go work on the supplies for the storm, but talk to the guys at the same time and find out if anyone saw Murdock, or saw him talking with anybody. See who talked to him last. Maybe that person knows what happened… knows where he went. _Something wasn't making sense, and Hannibal hated things that didn't make sense._

Face was the one who came up with the first clue. James was on duty in the Infirmary, and he was sitting at the desk. He looked up at Face and smiled. He put a finger to his lips. "I finally got that guy asleep." He pointed to a dark-haired patient in the cot nearest them, and for one wild second, Face hoped it was Murdock. It wasn't. It was another vet Face didn't know very well. James continued, "He's got a pretty bad case of the flu, and he's been restless. What can I do for you?"

Face ran his hand through his hair. "Look, Murdock is missing. Did you see him at all this morning?"

James frowned and scratched his chin. "Yeah, I did, actually. I thought it was a little weird, and I would have told you guys, but I got busy with a guy who came in with a big fish hook in his hand. I forgot about it."

Face sighed impatiently. "Forgot about what, James?"

"Well, he was acting all secretive and sneaky. And he left camp with Carrick, which is the weird part. I mean, he and Carrick don't exactly seem like buddies, right?"

Face stared at the medic in confusion. "No, they don't. Huh. I wonder what that was all about…" He stared off into space for a moment, and then looked back at James. "Thanks for the intel. Oh, and tell Doc there's a storm coming… Hannibal needs to know what you guys need for supplies and to batten this place down. He plans to arrange for an air shipment if we need anything urgently."

James shrugged. "Not our first storm. Doc should be back soon. I'll tell him, and have him talk to Hannibal. Hope you find Murdock." He scribbled a rapid note for Finn and then turned back to his report.

Face pivoted on his heel and practically sprinted back to HQ. _This was not good. Not good at all. Murdock, where in the hell are you?"_

 **Somewhere over the Bermuda Triangle**

H. M. Murdock had no idea where the hell he was, and that was not good. _Not good at all._ Because the plane he was fighting to control was bucking and shimmying worse than the spin cycle of a washing machine. He was pretty sure they had just flipped and rolled at least three times. Normally, he wouldn't have minded the mid-air acrobatics, but it sounded to him as if the wings were about to tear right off the plane. It simply wasn't meant to take the onslaught of magnetic buffeting that was attacking it from every side.

His fingers flew over the instruments purely by instinct, as muscle memory took over his brain, and Billy shouted out instructions . While it was true Billy could never get lost or turned around due to the magnetic anomalies, it was also true that neither of them were prepared for the sheer violence of being in the center of the Triangle. Suddenly, there were no references to direction, or gravity, or speed. And then it happened. All movement, all sound, EVERYTHING simply… stopped.

Murdock was utterly confused, because outside the cockpit, there was absolute sensory deprivation in less than one-tenth of a second. They were not even adrift. They were simply sitting there, as still as a stone. They were in complete, silent pitch blackness. Billy stared out the windshield attempting to make sense of what had just happened. He looked over at his friend. "Uh, boss, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

 **On Basseterre**

Carrick was feeling pretty good. His plan had gone off without a hitch. He had gotten off the damned island, Murdock was fish food by now, and nobody had seen them leave, so he was safe. He had even ensured the guy who had picked him up in the speedboat out in the water would never talk. Carrick figured the idiot deserved what he got. He was stupid enough to bring along the cement weight Carrick had asked for. After disposing of the body, he had sunk the boat a mile offshore and then waded ashore onto a deserted beach near town.

The only hitch was that a storm was brewing and all flights to the mainland were being cancelled or delayed for the next week out of an abundance of caution. He thought it was pretty stupid, The only flights available were local island hoppers, and those he certainly did not want! So, he decided he would make the best of things, and find himself some female companionship, buy a couple of bottles of rum, and hole up for the duration. He would wait for the storm to pass, and then book the first flight out of this hellhole, and then hightail it back to the States. He chuckled as he thought about that. He had some connections there… He could easily hook up another gig… maybe even head over to Europe or Asia for a while. Hell, they had a swinging drug trade over there… he could easily become a very wealthy man… Yeah, life was good.

 **~TBC~**


	8. Friends in Low Places

**Basseterre**

Carrick's plan to get very drunk and entertain himself with one of the local ladies was turning out to be a real success… at least as far as he was concerned. The storm was still several days off, and he was in a merry mood. He had found a very willing woman to spend time with him. She wasn't as young as he had originally thought, but she was quite friendly, and enthralled by all his stories. She hung on his every word, and gave wonderful massages, to boot.

She also didn't seem to mind his ranting about the deplorable way he had been treated over at the Settlement. She gave him a completely sympathetic ear, and hung on his every word. She assured him that she understood how he felt and that she didn't blame him a bit for his feelings. Apparently she had had her own run-ins with Templeton Peck a time or two, and was not a fan. Therefore, Carrick relaxed completely, and realized he was having the time of his life with the girl he knew only as Zia.

 **In the Triangle**

Murdock had no clue what to do next, so he and Billy simply sat and waited in the silence. It was a bit unnerving, but there was really nothing they could do. Whatever was holding them in that bit of nothingness would free them, or it wouldn't.

Suddenly, Murdock giggled. Billy eyed his friend warily. "What are you laughing about?"

Murdock grinned. "Let's play a game to pass the time. We've got nothing else to do."

Billy shrugged. "Okay, what do you have in mind?"

The pilot grinned ferociously. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with the letter… W!"

Billy groaned. "Man, you are one sick puppy, no pun intended!"

That remark only made Murdock laugh harder. "Come on, now, guess!"

"Okay, okay, next you'll wanna play Blind Man's Bluff!"

"That's a good one, too, but not now, come on… guess!"

Billy sighed and looked around. "Uhhh, water bottle?"

"Nope, try again!"

 **At the Settlement**

A sense of panic had set in amongst Murdock's friends. He had been gone for hours and other than the fact that he had been seen leaving with Carrick early that morning, there were no other clues.

The tension ratcheted up when Face made a really disturbing discovery a few hours after he had talked with James. They had fanned out searching for Murdock, and he was looking through a few of the huts, with the owner's permission, just in case Murdock had gotten turned around. He knocked on Carrick's door, though he knew he wasn't there. He didn't feel a bit bad about searching it without permission, but what he discovered sent him looking for Hannibal in a hurry.

Face was out of breath by the time he caught up with his C. O. on the other side of the island talking with a few of the villagers. They hadn't seen Murdock, but had agreed to keep their eyes open. Hannibal was just heading back to the settlement when Face found him. Hannibal frowned at the panicked expression as Face fought to calm his breathing.

"What is it, Face?"

"It's Carrick. Bad news. I think he must have done something to Murdock. All his stuff is gone. His hooch is empty. Totally cleared out."

Hannibal frowned. They hurried back to the Settlement. It was definite now. Murdock was in big trouble. And they had no idea where the hell he was. He turned to Face. "Look, we need to find out if they're even still on the island. If Carrick _has_ done something stupid, he isn't going to stick around. How about you head over to the airstrip and find out if they flew out of here." He turned to B. A. "You go talk to Dink. Have him call Mac. See if anybody's been down at the docks, or taken any passengers out today. They know Murdock down there. See if anyone's seen him."

Face and B. A. both nodded, and headed off as chewed the stub of his cigar in frustration. His gut was telling him the pilot was in trouble and he hated not knowing where he was, not being able to help him. If he got his hands on Carrick, there wouldn't be enough left to bury, let alone identify… Hannibal felt the cold fury building up inside him. He hadn't felt this kind of anger in a very long time, and he had hoped never to feel it again, but Alexander Carrick had brought it on himself. He had no idea what sort of men he was messing with. Nobody was going to hurt one of Hannibal's boys and simply walk away. _Nobody_.

 **Basseterre**

Zia sighed in relief. She glanced over at the bare back of the man snoring next to her. She had ~begun to think he would never pass out. She had been tempted to mickey his rum more than once. However, she had realized his constant chattering had begun to slow down, and his words were slurring. She knew it wouldn't be long before he fell asleep, and she could escape the room for at least an hour or so. It wasn't that he was rough with her or anything. In fact, he really wasn't a bad sort, _for a moron and a criminal_. He was no worse in fact, than many of the other men who passed through the island and spent time in her company. Except for one major difference. He had bragged about abandoning the man she loved. And she was going to make sure he paid for it.

Zia wasn't proud of what she was, but there weren't a lot of options for a girl in her position either. She just didn't allow herself to think about it very often. She was a barmaid and a hooker. She had made herself a life here. She smiled sadly when she thought about the fact that there was one man in all the world who loved her dearly. The problem was, he was way too old for her, and they both knew it. He had never slept with her, because he wouldn't do that to their friendship. But he loved her just the same. And that was why she quickly dressed, and crept out the door, and made sure to lock it. Because she had a call to make…

 **In the Triangle**

They had no idea how much time had passed. They had played a couple of games, but eventually gotten bored and dozed off. Billy noticed Murdock was beginning to shake slightly, and he was sweating. There was a familiar jitteriness in his mannerisms. Anxiety practically oozed from his pores, and Billy realized what was happening to his friend. They had been stuck for hours, and Murdock had missed at least two doses of his medications today.. This would normally not have been a problem, but Billy knew his friend had been having a lot of problems with several of the meds and had been playing games with them. Now was not a good time for him to be having a reaction, but it looked like that's what was happening.

Billy glanced at his buddy. "You okay, muchacho?"

"Course I'm okay, why wouldn't I be okay?" Murdock snapped.

Billy sighed. "No reason, I was just making conversation."

Murdock's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Well, don't worry about me. I'm fine." With that he lapsed into a sullen silence, and Billy carefully avoided looking too closely at the pilot.

He realized if they didn't get out of there soon, they weren't going to get out at all.

 **~TBC~**


	9. Conversations & Curiousities

**In the Triangle**

Murdock wasn't sure exactly when it happened, but he felt the difference in the air. He couldn't have described it, but it sent cold prickles down his spine. He could feel that the electrical interference that had been their constant companion over the past few hours was somehow dissipating.

That was the good news. The bad news was that it was still completely quiet, and he could tell they were still suspended in mid air. Experimentally, Murdock attempted to check to see if any of the systems worked. _Nothing_. They were still dead stick. He sat back and sighed in frustration. He was shaky from missing his medications. He also remembered how he had been treating Billy. "Look man, I'm sorry about the stuff I said earlier. I didn't mean to yell at you."

Billy chuckled. "Forget it. I know how it is. We'll get outta here and get you fixed up. Don't worry about it. It's been getting lighter ever since the electrical stuff has been calming down. Maybe whoever this is that's got us is gonna let us go."

Murdock closed his eyes as he shuddered violently. He knew he was running out of time. He was already getting the signals that the seizures would soon begin. This was a side he didn't let his teammates see unless he had no choice. His mental and physical problems weren't feigned, as some of the others on the island thought. He had been known to play up the symptoms and goof on them when he was younger, sometimes even playing the clown to act as comic relief, or to create a diversion, but after the things he had seen and done-after the trauma he had endured-no, it wasn't feigned. He _needed_ his meds, and he _needed_ his routine. Desperately.

And that's when Billy decided he'd had enough. He finally blew his cool. "Okay listen up! I don't know who you are or what you want. I don't care! You are hurting my friend and I won't allow that any more! He needs to go home. If you wanna keep me, I don't care, but let him go… RIGHT NOW!" He bellowed the last two words as loud as he could.

Neither of them were prepared for what happened next. They heard a soft chuckle, and a sonorous voice echoed softly throughout the cockpit. "Very well, you may go."

Billy was shocked when the inky blackness lifted completely and the engines both rumbled to life seemingly on their own. They purred with restrained energy, though they were still suspended in place. Murdock jumped, but instinctively placed his hands in their proper positions. He was blind, but he knew exactly what to do.

For reasons he couldn't explain, the voice didn't bother the pilot. "You're letting us go, just like that?"

"I was curious. I wondered about the two of you. You _are_ something of an enigma, you know." The voice was calm and soothing.

Murdock found that he was completely relaxed and comfortable. His mind was clear as he spoke with this… being. For the first time in a very long time, he was not afraid.

As for Billy, he was no fool. He might be invisible, but he was also a realist...which explained his status as an enigma. He raised an eyebrow (yes, most dogs have eyebrows, believe it or not.) "Just who are you and what did you drag us out here for?"

Again came the amused chuckle. "Let's just say, I am… an interested party."

Billy snorted. "Interested in what?"

"In the exquisite insanity that makes up your planet."

Murdock broke in. "Wait, you're an alien? Seriously?"

They swore they heard a sound very similar to someone spewing soda out their nose. Indeed, it was a few moments before the voice answered the question. "No, I am definitely _not_ an alien. Let's just say I have a vested interested in your home. Speaking of home, are you ready to go back?"

Somehow, both Billy and Murdock knew the conversation was over. They both nodded, and suddenly the plane began bucking and pitching nearly as wildly as before. But only for a few moments. And then… Billy saw it. There were storm clouds gathering all around them, but he would know the island in the distance anywhere. They were a long way from it… but he knew they could make it. They had come through too much not to make it now. He turned to his partner. "Come on, muchacho, I see the island!" give him any details beyond that, because that's exactly what he'd done.

Murdock grinned. "Gimme the heading then, and let's fly this birdie back to her nest!" He gave a long, loud whoop of delight as his fingers flew over the controls. They were going home.

Mom herself was nobody to mess with, but still… "Hey, Jimmy. Is Zia around?"

There might have been a slight hesitation, but Jimmy said, "Yeah, I'll go get her."

 **At the Settlement**

Hannibal, Face and B. A. were trying to figure out where to search next for Murdock. The old man at the airstrip had reluctantly told Face about the man who had slipped him a very large tip to look the other way. He couldn't tell them anything, because that was exactly what he had done.

The three men were upset, but there wasn't much point in taking out their anger on the old man, so they simply headed back to Headquarters to try to figure out their next move. They were surprised to see Dink standing outside the bar watching for them. He called out to them as soon as he spotted them. "Hey, Hannibal, a call came in for you. Zia wants you to call her right away. She said it's urgent, but not to talk to anybody but her."

Hannibal frowned, wondering why Murdock's girlfriend wanted to talk to him, and what the hell he was going to tell her about his being missing. He sighed. "Okay, Dink. I'll call her right now. Don't know what the heck I'm supposed to tell her, but I'll call her." B. A. briefly placed a sympathetic hand on Hannibal's shoulder for a moment as all four men stepped into the bar.

Dink, as was his way when he couldn't help otherwise, simply continued with the tasks at hand. He looked at the other two men. "You guys wanna help me board up the windows? That storm is gonna get mean real soon and we better be ready. Don't forget your hooches, too."

Face and B. A. nodded and went silently out the back door to help Dink with the plywood shutters. They were worried about Murdock, but the physical labor would do them some good. Dink knew this. He remembered that very well from his own days as a warrior.

Hannibal dialed the number from memory. The bar on Basseterre was one of the Settlement's points of connection with the outside world. As usual, the phone was picked up after the third ring. He was never sure how they managed it, but it was always three rings. The bar sounded crowded, and Hannibal recognized the deep, gruff voice that answered. "Mom's"

Hannibal couldn't help the smirk that overcame him at the name of the bar.

Hannibal waited, listening to the rowdy sounds of a typical early evening at one of the island's most popular watering holes. Eventually, the receiver was picked up and he heard Zia's muted contralto voice. She sounded slightly breathless. He never had a chance to even greet her. Her tone was hushed and desperate.

"Oh, Hannibal, thank God! Murdock's in terrible trouble!"

 **~TBC~**


End file.
